


Suffering Together

by Lucifer_Rosemaunt



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifer_Rosemaunt/pseuds/Lucifer_Rosemaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ErikRaoul slash. Raoul makes an unexpected request of Erik after having drunk something of a suspicious nature. dub-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suffering Together

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This has actually been slated for a fic for such a long time that I wasn’t sure if it was ever going to get included, so it became a one shot.   
> Story note: Honest to goodness, this plotbunny wants to be written and it’s practically building the story around the situation itself.

o.o.o.o

Taking a deep breath, Erik slowly opened his bedroom door a fraction in order to hear better. After a moment when he was almost certain that there were no people in the hallway outside, he hazarded to lean out to visually confirm his assumption. Empty. He leaned out of his room further. It was early enough that the guests at the party were still in the ballrooms, the lawn, or on the patio, everywhere thankfully away from the bedrooms. He could hear the steady undercurrent of the guests chattering over distant strains of ballroom music.

Fifteen minutes ago, there had been the distinct sound of stumbling and clothes dragging across the hallway walls. He would have left the drunkard alone even though he had disturbed Erik’s concentration on his drawing – though to be honest, he had not been able to focus all night knowing that Raoul had been downstairs drinking and flirting with all those young women. Still, he would have continued to pretend to draw when silence followed the drunkard’s encounter with the wall, but then he heard several of the family portraits that decorated the hallway be disturbed. He had been up from his seat and at his door with every intention of storming out of his room and chastising the drunken fool away despite the fact that he was easily recognizable with his mask and still being searched for by the mob. He was in enough of a state that he even considered removing his mask in hopes that they would believe the encounter to be nothing more than a drunken hallucination and Erik would still have the satisfaction of properly punishing them.

Instead of the perpetrator being one of the pompous aristocrats that had swarmed the house these past few days, however, it had been Raoul stumbling into his room in a hurry. His pants had been wrinkled and his jacket half off. One arm had been trapped within his sleeve since he had refused to relinquish a wine glass. Or rather, he had not thought to put the drink down before attempting to remove his clothing.

Erik had been waiting these past long minutes for him to reappear, certain that he would be able to hear Raoul’s door open now that he was listening for it. The younger man had yet to emerge. There was the distinct possibility that he had simply fallen asleep, but Erik was not content with not knowing, especially when he kept remembering the hasty motions and the way Raoul’s hands had shook as he opened his bedroom door. It had not seemed like drunken fumbling and that was reason enough to spur him across the hallway and hazard being caught in order to enter Raoul’s room.

Although he was unaccustomed to entering without knocking first, he considered the alternative of being caught in the hallway a worse option. The lock pick was already in his palm. He would be able to apologize later for his rudeness, and he could easily use the fact that Raoul had told him numerous times that he need not stand upon so much formality in the Chagny household – a fact that Erik knew was true with the number of times Philippe and Raoul entered each other’s and his own room unannounced.

He was, however, a little surprised to find the door unlocked when he had repeatedly reminded Raoul that there were guests occupying the same floor. He slipped into the room and made sure to lock the door behind him, disappointed that the younger man had not listened to the warning he had given that morning about the unscrupulousness of others. Of course, Raoul had given him a look that suggested he blamed his paranoia more than the character of their guests for his concern. Erik had kept his silence when he noticed that Philippe did not give him a similar look; he would have been disappointed if he were just as naïve. It was considerably less charming on the elder Chagny than the younger one.

“What did I tell you about…?” He started his reprimand, but the words died in his throat when he turned, spotting first the blond’s suit jacket discarded on the floor with his shoes, socks, and the glass, upended, beside it. The liquid had pooled and was soaking the sleeve. He hastened to pick it up, hoping to salvage the jacket when he heard a whimper followed by the sound of sheets rustling.

The jacket fell into the puddle once more.

Erik could only stare, mouth ajar, as he took in every minute detail of Raoul on the bed, even though he knew he should look away.

His blond hair was mussed and plastered against his face and neck even though it was still partially tied back with a ribbon. His face was flushed red and his eyes were half-lidded, glazed and glassy even as they were turned in his direction. Erik was not sure Raoul was truly seeing him, even as he was certain he would never be able to erase this image from his mind.

Raoul’s back was flush against the headboard of his bed, the heels of his feet straining to keep him there while his pants were caught around his left ankle, as though he had not enough ability to concern himself with removing it completely. His knees were slightly bent and his legs were spread open, wide. His shirt was only half-buttoned, falling off his shoulders; it revealed his chest heaving as his breaths came in short pants. The shirttails covered much of his groin, but not enough to hide the fact that both of his hands were furiously working what was obviously an erection beneath the white material.

“Erik,” Raoul moaned and Erik was startled out of staring at the hypnotic motion of his hands or at his pale thighs as they shook with effort.

There was no shame in his eyes, no hint of the self-consciousness that Erik expected of him. Instead, the younger man licked his lips slowly, tongue lingering on his bottom lip and something was wrong but he could not think when Raoul said his name again.

“Erik,” he whimpered, and Erik struggled to keep his eyes above Raoul’s shoulders when even that felt like he was seeing too much of him. If he wanted to hear anything of what Raoul was saying though, he needed to keep his eyes from lingering on how the flush on his face went down his neck or how sweat dripped down his chest and even further down past his navel. His hand was still moving, but he shifted and Erik now could see he had moved his one of his hands to rub the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He could see the tip of his erection, the pre-come that was quickly spread with the palm of Raoul’s hand to the base where he paused to squeeze tightly and give himself several rough strokes.

Raoul shut his eyes as his hips lifted off the bed and he shook his head against the headboard. “It is not enough.” Erik shook his head in agreement.

He dropped back onto the bed with a grunt. His shirt had caught against the wall so that it bunched up near his chest and suddenly Erik had an unimpeded view of just how the younger man gripped himself, how quickly he moved over hard flesh. There was nothing to conceal the moment Raoul slid his other hand from his inner thigh to rub against the skin between his erection and his balls before moving to cup the latter and squeeze them. There was nothing to hide how his thighs trembled in response or the curl of his toes as he strained evermore against the bed sheets.

Erik took an aborted step forward when Raoul groaned again and abandoned stimulating anything but his erection. His hips were doing these tiny jerks into the tight channel that he had made with both of his hands. Desire pooled low in Erik’s stomach, and he tried to resent the fact that he now knew Raoul’s voice alone could make him hard and seeing him masturbate was nearly enough to make him come.

“Erik,” Raoul pleaded, turning glazed eyes on him. He bit his bottom lip for a moment and Erik stared at his expression, sure that Raoul was about to come while maintaining eye contact with him and he simply could not breathe waiting in anticipation to see it happen. “It is not enough,” he panted, “I do not know…” His eyes welled with tears and Erik realized belatedly that Raoul was actually suffering right now while he stood uncertainly in the middle of room with an erection of his own.

“It is not enough.” Raoul breathed out, “I have tried everything. I need…”

He desperately wished Raoul would not finish that statement because at this moment, if he asked him to, there was no way Erik was not going to give him exactly what he thought he needed.

“Erik, please,” he begged.

And Erik could not help but step closer to the bed, close enough to reach forward and touch him if he wanted.

Raoul actually stopped stroking himself, an action that exposed his groin, and when he turned to crawl on his knees, Erik saw his erection bob at the motion, still so hard and ready for him.

“Help me, please.”

Erik swallowed with difficulty, his throat suddenly try.

Raoul reached out with one hand and when Erik grabbed hold of him, he found his touch incredibly hot, unnaturally so and he knew something was wrong. He spared a glance at the upended wine glass on the floor, but a warm hand on his cheek turned his face so that he could see nothing but Raoul.

“Will you help me?” he pleaded and leaned forward to press his cheek against Erik’s, his breath heavy against the masked man’s ear.  

Erik shuddered and nodded mutely because he could not leave him like this, desperate and aching. He told himself that was the reason he did not stop Raoul from guiding his hand lower.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Fic Review: Worst place ever to end it! But yeah. It’s a tease and what a way to start a new year, right? ;3 Raoul was drugged. Poor him and what kind of party is Philippe throwing that gets Raoul drugged with such a powerful aphrodisiac that he simply cannot make himself come? Don’t ask me what kind of aphrodisiac that is… it’s convenient enough to fit with my kinks. That’s all you need to know. Don’t question free smut, although they didn’t really get anywhere technically.


End file.
